


Trapped under your spell

by bluenna



Series: (S)wingset universe [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, What am I doing, and he's pissed off, dammit, michael has wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:50:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluenna/pseuds/bluenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is fed up with his wings. The damn things had appeared one night a few months ago, and while he's kind of okay with that, he's not okay with how they change color everytime Michael dyes his hair. They're supposed to be a window to your soul, not your hair, damn it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped under your spell

**Author's Note:**

> I NEED TO SLOW DOWN

Michael is fed up with his wings. The damn things had appeared one night a few months ago, and while he's kind of okay with that, he's not okay with how they change color everytime Michael dyes his hair. They're supposed to be a window to your soul, not your hair, damn it. 

Michael is standing on the hair dye isle in the supermarket, considering dying his hair black, because he'd liked his wings when they'd first appeared, black as the night, and undoubtedly the exact same color his hair had been then. He'd been proud of them, okay? There weren't that many who had wings in the first place - and black? Even fewer.

But, to be honest, anything was better than pink.

Michael grunts as his wings jerk, like they have their own mind and are offended by Michael's thoughts. Michael rounds his shoulders and grabs a box of black dye. He starts making his way towards the cash register, when his wings jerk again and send dozen of boxes of dye on the floor.

"Are you kidding me?" Michael hisses at his wings, ignoring the cashier's glare, and starts picking up the boxes, putting them in their - hopefully - right places, one at a time. "I'm serious, the pink is not staying. Besides, it's already fading."

He feels a bit stupid, talking to himself like that. It's not like people really talk to their legs or hands, now is it? He tries tucking the wings closer to his back and sides but they keep fidgeting, just until Michael sighs, defeated, and puts the black color back.

His wings calm down.

Great.

He stands staring at the box he'd put back mournfully for a minute before he gives up and leaves the store.

\--

Ashton takes one look at his wings and snorts. "Still acting up?"

Michael glares at him, and ignores Ashton's giggling. He hops down on the couch, face plating into a cushion and screams.

"Hey," Ashton says, "my mom's upstairs, please don't alarm her."

"I don't care," Michael tries to tell him, but all Ashton hears is incoherent mumbling.

"You know, I still think you have one of those Magnets near."

Michael frowns. It's a stupid myth, the whole Magnet thing. It's what people who don't have any ability or other speciality comfort themselves with. That they have someone destined to themselves, and... something about great power, blah, blah, Michael doesn't remember.

He turns his head so he can actually breath, and wrinkles his nose at Ashton. "You know that's about as propable as you finding a girlfriend, right?"

Ashton grins at him. "Actually, someone told me today it's kinda cute?"

"Cute?" Michael repeats, now grinning himself, "you start growing flowers everywhere when you talk to someone you like. That's creepy, not cute."

Ashton waves his hand. "You'll see Michael. I'll find some pretty gardener and she's going to fall in love with me the moment she sees what I can do."

Michael has to admire his confidence. He's seen the way Ashton acts around people he has a crush on. He starts stammering, and bang, suddenly there's a rose bud appearing in his hair. It wouldn't be a problem if Ashton didn't get attached so fast, while he was still getting to know the other person. They usually unfriend Ashton pretty soon after that and the flowers die.

But, whatever. He doesn't have pink wings, and Michael has, so he sets his priorities straight and starts plotting against the feathers on his back. Not that it's easy, because they start reacting to Michael's thoughts seconds before he even thinks of them. His left wing stretches, spreading far enough it's touching the coffee table, just a few inches away from knocking down a mug.

"Can you tell our bodyparts to calm down?" Ashton asks. He's sitting on the other sofa, watching television. "Mom had to throw the carpet away last time you got it stained."

"Well, excuse me," Michael mumbles. "It's not like I can control it." He glares daggers at his wings, and sees Ashton smiling apologetically at him.

"Yeah, I know, I know."

\-- 

Michael is not a stealthy person anymore. He can't even get through a door without knocking something over or banging his wings on something. Basically, if he's been out too long, his mom always knows.

He doesn't even try to be quiet when he gets in, cursing under his breath as a basket full of scarves fall off the shelf beside the front door. He picks them up and puts them back, not for the first and certainly not for the last time.

"Michael?" his mom calls from somewhere in the house.

"Yeah!"

His mom appears from the kitchen, takes one look at Michael's grumpy face and reaches to touch his cheek. Michael feels calmer immediately. 

"Can you stop doing that?" he asks, sighing. "It's a bit annoying."

His mom sends him a look. "It's not controlling, it's soothing." She motions him towards the ktichen. "Leftover lasagna in the fridge, and ice cream in the freezer if you feel like it."

"Thanks."

Michael wanders into the kitchen, fills a glass with water and downs it in a few gulps. He's just opening a kitchen cabinet to get a plate when he notices something outside.

"Mom?" he yells.

"What?"

"Is someone moving in next door?"

His mom doesn't answer. Instead she comes back into the kitchen to stand next to Michael, and takes one look outside, where a truck is parked on the side of the road, right by the house next to them.

"That wasn't there ten minutes ago," she says.

"Yeah, it wasn't there when I got in." He would've seen.

His mom shrugs. "They house has been empty for quite a while, it's not surprising that someone eventually moves in."

Michael hums. They stand watching for a few more moments before his mom makes a thoughtful noise, leaves, and Michael goes to take the lasagna out of the fridge.

\--

There's a boy staring at Michael on the other side of the fence that separates their and their neighbours' house. Michael's just minding his own business, lying on the grass, fumbling on his phone when he notices movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look. 

Michael's never seen him before, he's sure he'd remember. The boy is taller than him - and Michael's not short, okay -, he's got blond hair, styled up in a quiff and even from a distance Michael can see his eyes are blue. 

And. He's staring at Michael.

"What?" Michael asks after their staring contest starts feeling stupid. 

"Um," The boy says. He scratches his neck and bites his lip. "I like your wings."

Michael raises his brow at the boy, then frowns as his wings flutter happily. It seems like his wings like the boy back. Michael has no idea what that's supposed to mean.

"Thanks," he replies after a moment. "They're a pain in the ass."

The boy chuckles. "I can imagine." The boy shifts on his foot. "I'm Luke, by the way. We just moved here from across the town."

"Michael. Lived here since forever."

Luke smiles tentatively. He opens his mouth to say something, but he's cut off by a woman calling his name.

"Oh, that's my mom," Luke says, turning his eyes from the house back to Michael. He glances at Michael's wings, before smiling again. "I better go. See you later."

He turns around and leaves, and Michael feels itching between his shoulder blades where his wings are going crazy. 

"Calm the fuck down," he tells them, annoyed. There's no way a short conversation like that is having an impact on him. 

He turns back to his phone and decides to ignore his stupid wings.

\--

A week later Michael's pissed off. Or, maybe saying that he's been pissed off for a week is more accurate. Because he has been. He's feeling restless, and he's wings are like two negative aged kids, doing whatever the fuck they want and not listening him at all.

"Mike? Are you feeling okay?" Calum asks. He has actually paused the game he's playing on Play Station 3 and is watching Michael with concern on his face.

"Yeah, I'm good. Great, actually." He grimaces when his right wing suddenly jerks and hits Calum on the side.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, sorry." Michael turns on his seat so it's less likely he'll hit Calum again. "They've been acting all weird lately, I don't know what's going on." He glares over his shoulder when the faded pink feathers are attached to his back.

"Maybe you should go see a doctor or something?"

Michael huffs. "I'm not sick. I'm fine," he repeats. He rolls his shoulders back, but the wings keep making jerky movements. Michael really hates them. He reaches to touch the feathers, smooths them over and settles back against the couch, only to sit up a few seconds later.

"You're not fine," Calum says, and uh-oh. That's his 'I'm going to tell you something and you're going to listen, because I know better' voice. "You've been like this for days, like there are ants in your wings, man. You should at least talk to your mom about it."

Michael makes a face at him. "I don't wanna."

"Yeah, well I don't wanna get hit any more times. Please do something about them." Calum looks at Michael's wings and jumps back on his seat when they jerk again. "I'm serious."

"Okay, fine. I'll think about it. Strongly," he adds when Calum sighs.

\--

He has to leave an hour later. Not because he has a curfew or because Calum wants to; he physically has to. He's feeling uneasy, his wings going in this and that direction, and he really, really, needs to get home.

Only, when he comes to road leading to their house, he passes right by it and finds himself at their neighbours' door. Before he can think, he knocks, and a moment later a woman comes to open the door.

"Yes?"

"Is Luke home?" he asks. And, what? Why?

The woman smiles. "He's right upstairs. Come on in." She closes the door behind him and walks over to a staircase. "Luke! There's someone to see you."

There's no answer, and the woman - Luke's mom, probably - turns to smile apologetically at Michael. "He has his earphones on half the time, he probably doesn't hear anything. You can go upstairs, it's the second door on the left.

Michael wonders briefly what the hell he's even doing in Luke's house, then makes his way up and knocks twice before opening the door to Luke's door.

Luke looks up from his phone, unplugs his earphones and sits up on his bed. "Michael?"

"I kinda need you to touch my wings," Michael blurts out.

"What?"

Michael walks over the bed, sits down and motions impatiently. "Just do it."

Luke watches him with a bewildered expression, then slowly reaches his hand to touch the wings that are flipping out. Michael sighs at the contact, his wings relaxing immediately, as Luke runs his fingertips over the feathers at the middle of his wing. 

He also gets his ability to think back.

"What the hell."

If Luke's face is anything to go by, he'd like to know too.

"Boys, is there anyth-"

Luke pulls his hand back when his mom stops at the doorway. She takes one look at Michaels wing that is already extending to be in contact with Luke again and goes, "Oh."

She walks in, closes the door and sighs. "Oh," she says again.

"Mom?"

She closes her eyes for a moments, then looks at Luke seriously. "It's time we had a talk."

Michael gaze darts between Luke and his mom, and he's 110% sure he wants to have no part in whatever that talk is about. He goes to get up, but Luke's mom waves at him.

"Sit down, Michael, this concerns you too."

So, Michael sits down.

\--

It's stupid. It's so stupid, and Michael would storm out of the door for even having to listen to this, except he can't, because Luke has his hand over his wing and apparently his wings like that.

His wings like Luke. His wings like Luke, because Luke is a Magnet, and Michaels wings want to please him, and isn't that's not some twisted shit right there.

This is the worst day of Michael's life.

"It'll eventually go away," Luke's mom - Liz, as he has learned - says. "Luke just has to stop thinking about them and you probably shouldn't see each other until you have the control back."

Michael would laugh at the scandalized look on Luke's face, except there's nothing funny about this situation. 

"You're not serious," Michael says, not finding anything else to say. 

Liz sends him an unimpressed look. "Unless you too want to complete the bond, there really is no other option. It's not easy to try and ignore it, especially when you live next door, but you have to try, or there will be consequences. You," she looks at Luke, "really have to do your best with this, because Michael will sense if you're thinking about his wings, and it will only make things uncomfortable for him."

"I can do that," Luke says, but he doesn't sound so sure.

"As for you," Liz turns to Michael, "there's really nothing else to do, except try to resist the need to get close. You'll feel uneasy, but you have to just hang in there and eventually it will get better."

Neither of the boys say anything. Liz looks between them before she claps her hands together. "Okay! So, I'll let you two talk for a moment, before Michael gets back home." She gets up and smiles at them before she leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.

It's quiet for a minute. Then Luke clears his throat. "That was more awkward than the 'it's okay to be gay' talk she gave me. I didn't know that was possible."

Michael snorts. Then he remembers something and starts frowning.

"You like my wings."

"I think we have established that already."

Michael shakes his head, moves away from Luke before scooting back over because he's wings start jerking. "You like the color."

Luke actually blushes. "It's... cute?"

"Oh my God!" Michael glares at him. "I've been stuck with pink wings for weeks because of you! They don't let me dye my hair!"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"They actually change color when I dye my hair. And I've been wanting to dye it black for about a month, but they've blocked me." He pauses, then frowns again. "But you only moved here last week."

Luke laughs nervously. "Oh, haha, yeah, about that. I might have seen you? While back? At the supermarket?"

Michael stares at him. "Are you asking me or telling me."

"...Telling you."

"I can't believe this," Michael groans. He buries his face in his hands and lets out a frustrated noise.

"Sorry," Luke says. He moves his hand to tap Michael on the shoulder, then breaks off the movement as Michael's wing goes to poke him gently on the face. 

"Oh my God," Michael mumbles. He gets up and looks at Luke. "I'm leaving." He does his best at ignoring the itching on his wings as he walks home, forcing himself not to look back.

\--

His wings calm down a bit. It's a relief. Michael is actually able to do other things than grit his teeth together and watch movies in his room. He hangs out with Calum and Ashton, and on Saturday he decides his wings' days as pink are over. He goes to the closest store that sells hair dye and spends thirty minutes standing on the isle, going over the options.

He settles for black. He wants black, and he will have black.

Only, when he reaches for the box his right wing slaps his hand. His own wing slaps his own hand. Michael stares at his hand in confusion for a while before his left wing gaines his focus. The tip of the wing is touching one of the boxes gently, and Michael sees red.

As in, he gets mad, because hell no, he's not dying his hair green, he doesn't want green hair, or green wings, that is not his choice of-

Fucking fucker fuck.

Michael doesn't think he's ever walked so fast as he does then. He grits his teeth angrily as he walks to Luke's house and bangs on the door, politeness be damned.

"Are you kidding me?" he yells as a sleepy-looking Luke opens the door.

The boy frowns in confusion and rubs his eyes. "What?"

"Green?!"

And, yeah, Luke knows what that means. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

Michael points a finger at him. "You know what? I don't actually care. You have to stop thinking about them, it can't be that hard, I want to live my life in peace and be able to buy whatever hair dye I want to without needing to think if my wings - if my own bodyparts - are up for it."

His wings are fidgeting, concerned because Michael's mad, but fuck that, fuck what his fucking wings want, Michael's the one with the brains here. He grits his teeth harder, his wings growing more and more restless banging against the door and the wall, until he understands what it is they want.

He blinks at Luke, the rage all gone, as the boy continues watching him with his mouth slightly open. Michael swallows, the urge to move getting stronger, and when his wings start reaching for Luke, he thinks fuck it and crowds into Luke's personal space. The boy squawks, but Michael can't really think about that, he's too busy fisting Luke's shirt to pull him closer and getting his lips on Luke's stupid ones.

He can feel Luke's arms circling around his waist and his own wings covering the boy's arms as he forces all his frustration into the kiss. A moment later Luke's back hits a wall and their teeth clash together, but Michael just tilts his head to get better access and licks at the seem of Luke's lips. His wings flutter happily as Luke parts his lips, and he pushes closer, until-

"Wait, wait." Luke pulls back, planting his hand on Michael's chest and keeping him far enough so he doesn't get to kiss him again. Michael wants to though; Luke's lips are a pretty shade of pink, slightly swollen and slick, and he really, really wants to-

"Michael."

Michael turns his gaze from Luke's lips to his eyes. "What?"

"We can't do this."

Michael takes a step back and glares at Luke. "Why the hell not? You wanted to."

"Yeah!" Luke exclaims. "I did. I was thinking about it and-"

"Wait, hold up," Michael cuts him off, before the boy gets even started. He holds his hands up. "I didn't kiss you just because you wanted to kiss me and my wings got a kick out of that."

Luke looks doubtful and confused. Also a bit hopeful.

"I kissed you because my wings where going crazy and I actually realized why, and then once I started thinking about it didn't seem like a bad idea."

Luke raises his brows at him. 

"I'm serious," Michael says.

"I'm not sure if I should believe that."

Michaels sighs. This is not how he thought his Saturday would go. "Okay, well. How about you think about not wanting to kiss me, and I'll tell you if I start resending you."

Luke nods. He closes his eyes, furrows his brows and keeps thinking for a good minute.

"I still want to kiss you," Michael informs him. He also notices that his wings are calmer now, that he can move them more freely than he could before and they're not trying to do anything socially unacceptable. He stretches them a bit wider and then draws them against his back. It's awesome.

"Are you done?" he asks Luke.

Luke opens his eyes. He searches Michael's face, and after a moment, starts smiling.

"Yeah."

Michael grins. "Great." he extends his wing to poke Luke in the ribs, and sighs as Luke runs his fingers down it's length.

\--

He's still going to dye his hair, though, no matter how cute Luke thinks pink is.

**Author's Note:**

> It's three am sorry for errors I just can't read this through any more times I just wanna throw this off my hands fuckidbdb jojoba


End file.
